


Butch & Sundance Ride Again

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-07
Updated: 2011-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick's a little nervous. Gabe can help with that. A sequel of sorts to <a href="http://romanticalgirl.livejournal.com/849093.html">Butch and Sundance</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Butch & Sundance Ride Again

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://loz22.livejournal.com/profile)[**loz22**](http://loz22.livejournal.com/) for [](http://help-japan.livejournal.com/profile)[**help_japan**](http://help-japan.livejournal.com/)

  
Patrick hits New York with his stomach somewhere in his throat. In Chicago he’s sure of the hometown crowd, old fans and new as well as family he can count on to be out there in the audience. He’s careful not to think about who’s not there, because as much as he wants this and needs it, making live music without Pete and Andy and Joe feels not quite wrong, but not quite right either.

He got texts from all of them wishing him a good show, telling him he was going to be great. It meant a lot, more than he can ever say. Pete was always the one who had a way with words. Still, he has the texts saved on his phone along with the ones from SXSW last year, even though those were a little more bitter, stung with hurt.

New York is a different town, a different sentiment. He knows it just as well and has as many friends, but it’s harder and more critical. He’s let everyone know where he’ll be playing and staying, so he expects a visit or two, though probably not at the show. He’s not like Pete, not able to take it in stride if Gabe or Travie shows up in the middle of the crowd. Backstage is different, an atmosphere he can relax in if they’re there, able to be his friend as easily as they’re Pete’s.

It’s possible, he supposes, that he might be a little defensive about their friendships, that he cares as much as Pete, even if he doesn’t need them as much as Pete does.

There’s supposed to be a car waiting for him, but instead there’s a ridiculously tall and lanky troublemaker sitting on the luggage carousel.

“There wasn’t a single snake on the flight,” Patrick says. “You’re free to go.”

“You never know when the Cobra’s going to show up, man.” Gabe stands up, unfolds himself really, and towers over Patrick. “I commandeered your car.”

“You did.”

“Don’t sound surprised. It means I’ve been neglecting you if you don’t know to expect the unexpected. Pete told me when you were getting in. Your manager told me which car service you use. The rest was just being suave and the Saporta charm.”

“I still need a ride to my gig.”

“Don’t worry, Patty-cakes. I’ve got you covered.”

“If you call me that again, I will punch you in the junk.”

“Is that as high as you can reach?” Gabe loops an arm around Patrick’s shoulders and tugs him in for a hug.

“No, but it’s most effective.” He hugs back, one arm around Gabe’s waist as he keeps an eye out for his luggage. “Did Pete send you?”

“Nope. He’s busy trying to figure out what he’s doing with his life. I got here all by my lonesome. So, you know, ‘Hi, Gabe. Thanks for meeting me. That’s fuckin’ awesome’. Now you try.”

Patrick laughs and hugs him again. “Where’s my driver, Saporta?”

“Now you’ve hurt my feelings. No wonder you had to make the album by yourself, you’re so mean no one wants to work with you.”

Patrick punches him in the arm, just grazing him, as Gabe dances away with a laugh. “I’ll remember this next time you’re looking for a producer, you know.” He grabs his bag as it comes down the chute and then walks over to the oversized luggage to pick up his guitar. Most of his stuff went on ahead in the van, but he’d had too much press to do to ride along with it, and his guitar goes where he goes. “All right. I guess I’m at your mercy.”

“Always, Stump.” Gabe grabs the duffel from Patrick and shoulders it, heading out to the loading area where there’s a town car waiting. “Also, I didn’t say I didn’t have a ride for you…”

“You always have a ride.”

Gabe snorts a laugh. “I just said I commandeered it. Different.” He opens the trunk and tosses the bag in, taking the guitar from Patrick’s hands before he can protest. He stores it carefully and then nods. “Get in.”

“Bossy.”

“Yeah, but I come by it honestly. I get it from Pete.”

“You forget Pete wasn’t the only one who knew you when you were in Midtown. You’ve always been bossy and demanding.”

“Only in bed.”

“Wow, and to think people wonder why you can’t get dates.”

“Some people like that.”

Patrick ignores that and the smirk that comes with it, sliding in the car and making room for Gabe. The driver takes it all in stride, which is really the easiest way to handle Gabe, and heads toward Patrick’s hotel. They’re quiet for most of the ride while Patrick texts to let people know he’s in town, that he’s safe. He thinks about the ridiculous amount of time they spent risking their lives living in vans, and now that he jets from place to place, people actually worry about him.

“I’m nervous as shit.”

Gabe glances at him out of the corner of his eye, a slight smile curving the corner of his mouth. “But, dude, you’re Patrick Stump. Lead singer of Fall Out Boy.”

“Right now I’m Patrick Stump, about to face a New York audience of people who think I’m responsible for Fall Out Boy’s hiatus.”

“Not all of them think that. Some people blame Joe.”

“You are the _least_ helpful human being.” He slumps back in the seat and smacks Gabe in the arm. “Also mean.”

“You love me. You can’t help yourself.”

“You’re a disease.”

“Nope. Used antibiotics.” He gives Patrick a full-fledged grin, which is pretty hard not to return. Patrick doesn’t even tryfighting it. “You’re going to be fine. More than fine. Great. You’ll cover Cobra again and everyone will love you. It’s like cause and effect.”

“Most people cared more about the Prince cover.”

“ _Nothing Compares to You_ is a cheap shot. No one can refuse that. You sing that and people forgive you for ripping up pictures of the Pope. I expected classic shit, man. You let me down.”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to live up to your high standards.”

“Hell, yeah. Just because you’re pretty doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you.”

“Aw. You think I’m pretty.” Patrick bats his eyes and grins, stretching out his legs. “I’m still not going to put out.”

“You Fall Out Boys. Always playing hard to get.” Gabe sighs dramatically. “Teases, one and all.”

Patrick rolls his eyes as the car comes to a stop outside the hotel. “Are you coming up?”

“Will I get lucky?”

“Only if my bellhop is desperate enough to fall for you.” He climbs out of the car and grabs his guitar, letting Gabe take the duffel. “You take the risk.”

“I like to live dangerously.” Gabe follows him to the front desk, hanging back at the potted plants that shield the check-in area. Patrick gets his room key and thanks the staff, grabbing Gabe’s arm and tugging him toward the elevator.

“I was totally going to go talk to that girl by the bar,” Gabe pouts

“I know. That’s why we’re going to my room.”

“Jealousy looks so good on you. Seriously, it’s hot.” Gabe waggles his eyebrows, laughing and stumbling forward as Patrick pushes him. “You’re all red. Even your ears. You look like an embarrassed elf.”

“Pissed-off elf,” Patrick corrects. Gabe leans against the wall, still grinning, and Patrick sticks his tongue out at him. Something about Gabe makes him relax and act like a child. It’s different than the brother-vibe that Patrick has with Pete, the competition that pits them against each other more often than he likes to admit. “You are so fucking smug.”

“Always.” He straightens as the doors open, letting Patrick lead the way to the room. Patrick glances back as he slides the key into the slot. “You coming to the show tonight?”

“Figure that’s up to you.”

“It’d be nice. If you were there.”

“Backstage.”

Patrick smiles and laughs, self-deprecatingly. “Yeah.”

“I can do that. Believe it or not, I’m not a complete camera whore.” He laughs as well at Patrick’s look. “I’m not _always_ a complete camera whore.”

“Somewhat better.” He opens the door and ducks inside, holding the door open for Gabe. Gabe follows him in, tossing the duffel at the foot of the king-sized bed. Patrick stares down at it for a minute then looks up at Gabe. “So.”

“So.” Gabe drawls slowly, taking a step closer. “Are you done being all indignant that I didn’t let you do this all on your own?”

“I am a big boy.”

“Trust me, I know.” Gabe laughs and catches Patrick’s chin, holding him still as he leans down, ghosting a kiss across his lips. “But if you want to whip it out and show me…”

“You’re insatiable.”

“I think I was well behaved the entire way from the airport.”

“Yes, you’re the soul of decorum.” Patrick slides one of his hands up Gabe’s arm, curving it around his bicep. “Now quit teasing.”

“Give a man a solo album and he thinks he…” He cuts off as Patrick goes up on his toes, pulling Gabe down to him and pressing their mouths together. Gabe manages the hint of a laugh before his tongue parts Patrick’s lips, sliding past them. Patrick moans, his own tongue curving and curling around Gabe’s, sucking it deeper.

Patrick’s fingers curl in Gabe’s sleeve, tugging at the baggy black sweater. “God, what are you, a grandpa?”

“Says the man trying to bring bowties back into fashion.” Gabe chokes on his laugh as Patrick pushes him onto the bed and climbs over him, knees pressing against Gabe’s sides. He braces himself over Gabe, his hair falling in a wispy swoop until just the reddish-gold ends brush Gabe’s forehead.

Gabe’s hands find Patrick’s hips, thumbs rubbing at the waistband. “Hey there.”

“We’re having trouble with the meaning of ‘shut up’, aren’t we?”

“By ‘we’ I’m guessing you mean to imply ‘me’.”

“I knew you were smart.” Patrick grins and leans in, kissing Gabe again, softly this time. “I have a couple hours before I have to be at the venue. I suppose if you really want to talk, we can.”

“What are my other options?” Gabe tugs Patrick’s shirt free of his jeans and over his head, tossing it to the side. “Besides talking?” He lets his hands move over Patrick’s sides, his stomach, his chest. Patrick closes his eyes, just feeling his touch, inhaling sharply as Gabe’s fingers splay across his collarbone. “I like to choose wisely. Have all the facts.”

“Gabe.” Patrick lets his weight rest on Gabe’s hands, strong and sturdy against his skin. He opens his eyes and looks down at him, returning Gabe’s smile.

“What?”

“For once in you life.” He pushes against Gabe’s hands, easing down as Gabe brings him closer, skin against skin. “Could you just shut the fuck up?”

Gabe grins and slides on hand up to curl around Patrick’s neck, tugging him in the few inches that still separate them. “I have to admit fucking is a key element in my Plan A.” He bites Patrick’s lower lip and rolls them both over, pinning Patrick on the bed. “If you want to pick that one.”

Patrick cocks an eyebrow. “What’s Plan B?”

Gabe leans down and licks a slow, hot stripe up Patrick’s neck. “I don’t actually have one.”

“Okay,” Patrick breathes, turning his head to capture Gabe’s mouth again, the impending concert forgotten for the moment. “Plan A it is.”  



End file.
